


Anywhere But Here

by Viridian5



Category: The X-Files
Genre: Angst, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-08-27
Updated: 1998-08-27
Packaged: 2017-10-02 07:28:11
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Viridian5/pseuds/Viridian5
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I want you to take me somewhere, Alex. Anywhere, as long as it isn't here." And Alex does....</p>
            </blockquote>





	Anywhere But Here

**Author's Note:**

> Spoilers for "The Red and the Black" and _The X-Files: Fight the Future_.
> 
> Dedicated to a certain Small Woodinat Creature, who got me into this in the first place. I wouldn't be writing online X-smut if not for her. Happy birthday, luv!
> 
> Thanks to Te for the theater possibility and help when I found myself as indecisive as Mulder. Te isn't Alex Krycek, but sometimes she plays him in Instant Mail. Te also beta-ed the first half of this story for me despite all her other obligations. The rest I did all by myself due to my deadline (see birthday message above).
> 
> The theater in this one is my memorial to the quickly disappearing grand movie theaters of 42nd Street. Most of them have been torn down to make room for a mall! At least the Amsterdam (which provided some of the inspiration for my descriptions) survives, renovated and converted to be the current home for the play version of _The Lion King_. The _Pinky and the Brain_ episode used here is "Brain's Night Off."
> 
> If you read the log for the Up and Cumming Writers chat that took place August 22, you'll know why I laughed so hard writing parts of the theater sex scene.

_"Oh, it was sweet, it was wild,  
And oh how we... I trembled, stuck in honey,  
Honey cling to me.  
So just one more, just one more go.  
Inspire in me the desire in me to never go home"_  
  -- "Homesick" by the Cure  
\-------------------------------------------------------------------

I woke up on my couch as usual, staring at the ceiling, automatically checking for holes and bugs. None there... this time. Dust motes swirled in the light coming in through the window. The old leather of the couch creaked beneath me as I moved. The TV, left on last night, blared the theme song to _Pinky and the Brain_. Just like any other morning.

Except I had no real urge to get up and go to work. I couldn't find the will to do much of anything.

I knew why. I'd been fighting a growing sense of unreality for days.

I had seen the ship, filled with thousands of people taken captive for alien experimentation. People I couldn't rescue.... As I'd watched the ship fly away, I had thought, this changes everything.

It changed nothing. Scully had succeeded in getting the X-Files reopened, and I had her commitment to me as a partner, but that just returned us to a slightly altered version of the status quo. Despite her experience in the ship, she still had moments when she desperately tried to deny it all: the ship, her experience in the pod, that moment in the hallway when I'd almost kissed her....

We still had no evidence beyond that one bee. All my attempts to unearth leads on the aliens or the Consortium have led to total dead ends. It was as if they all ceased to exist. I knew no more now about the vaccine I'd used to get Scully back than I did when the Well-Manicured Man handed me the only vial, now used and lost.

_One_ thing had changed. A quiet calm had fallen over my life. It seemed as if the Consortium had stopped letting my existence bother them. No one else tried to kill me; no more shadowy contacts came forward to try to enlighten me. With the way my life had been since getting back from Antarctica, I could have been just another federal agent, albeit one with a load of odd cases.

It was driving me insane.

I've always lived in the middle of a storm, under constant pressure, with pain and bad fortune raining down. Pressure from my father to be the best, to not waste my intellect, even while I was very young. I remembered him ripping up my first grade homework and making me rewrite it if he thought it looked too sloppy. Eventually I internalized that drive for perfection until it was _my_ drive. I had to be the perfect son, the brilliant student... to follow in Dad's footsteps into the FBI. Later, it involved finding Samantha and being so wonderful and perfect that my parents would get back together, so that we could be a family again, only a happy one, this time. Failing most of that only made me try harder.

I did all this in a family environment that could be called volatile even before Samantha's abduction. Dad was my first profiling assignment. I studied him until I could recognize the physical and behavioral cues that would tell me when I could deal with him without him screaming at me. Or worse.

I became used to that environment; eventually, I learned to thrive in it. You could live in a wind tunnel and get used to the roar and the buffeting if you lived with it long enough. But when the pressure stops and silence falls, the sound of your own thoughts and heart beating becomes so loud and overwhelming....

I couldn't talk to Scully about this. If I told her that peace and quiet drove me insane, she'd ask me to wait for the nice men to come and take me away. I didn't even sound sane to myself when I looked at it.

&gt;From the TV I heard Brain say, "All the best authorities on motivational psychology agree, you must recreate. Why, the very etymology of the word says it all: 're-create.' You must recreate yourself by pursuing diversions apart from your quotidian responsibilities." Brain intended to take the night off from his obsession of trying to take over the world.

People think I'm an atheist, but that wasn't quite right. I couldn't completely convince myself that God didn't exist. There's a difference between belief and reverence, though. If He did exist, I refused to worship any being who had that much power but didn't use it to make people's lives better. I've yet to see a miracle. Sometimes I think He amuses Himself by making life a misery. The two religiously-tinged X-Files I've seen support that theory.

I could see this cartoon's timing as a coincidence or a sign. A God who communicated with His people through cartoons was one I wouldn't mind believing in.

I've never willingly taken a vacation. Sometimes I took a day off from the office to secretly track down a lead. Once in a while Skinner forced me to use some of my leave time.

I needed a change, a diversion. I could take off for a few days. Nothing important waited for me at work right now, anyway.... Don't think about that.

I could take a long vacation if I liked. Dad had left me a fortune in blood money, handled by a broker I'd inherited with it. If I could, I would throw it all away, but the broker gave me stipends and controlled the rest. The man even _sounded_ like Dad. "I know that having a lot of money at once can be overwhelming, Fox, so I'll take care of the rest of it for you.... I have an investment opportunity I don't think we can pass up...." I couldn't argue with that voice--I never could--so my fortune continued to grow.

I retaliated in my usual passive-aggressive style. I flung my monthly stipend to a few pet charities. I spent it on expensive suits, which I then proceeded to mutilate with mud, blood, and assorted ichors. I doubt the broker cared, but my hissy fits made me feel more in control.

Spending the money on some sanity-restoring recreation time would be a good use for it. I felt a little better already.

I called Kimberly to give notice that I'd be taking a week off. It took me 20 minutes to convince her I wasn't drunk or under duress. Scully had already left for work, and we didn't have the phones set up in the new office yet, so I called Kimberly again to ask her to explain to Scully what had happened. Skinner's secretary was positive I was calling to change my mind, and asked repeatedly if I was all right.

I dressed in casual attire, an old sweater and jeans, and positively gloried in how much less confining they felt than a suit and tie. I pulled out drawers and flung my closet door open with abandon. As I packed a suitcase, I started to wonder where I would go. I had so many choices.

With Dad's money, I could take a car, a plane, a train, a boat. I could go anywhere I wanted. I could stay on the continent... No, I saw the states just doing my job. I could go to Europe or Asia or.... Any country, anywhere, any way I wanted.

I had too many choices. I couldn't make up my mind.

A new and horrible thought occurred to me. I could go anywhere, but I would still be myself. No matter where you go, there you are, as Buckeroo Banzai once said. I couldn't escape. I would just make myself more miserable in the attempt.

My great intellect had allowed me to work that out before I left so the misery would hit sooner rather than later. At least it meant I didn't have to feel quite so stupid.

I stopped that line of thought before it started. I've been here before. I would feel stupid about something, then feel stupid for feeling stupid, and head straight into bitter self-hatred from there. I refused to play that game today.

I felt something hard and cold press into my back, making my fading bruises ache. A familiar voice, accompanied by warm breath, said into my ear, "We'll be going on a little trip. Come along quietly." He sounded cold, professional, and dangerous. Business then, and not pleasure.

Even as I wondered how the hell he could break into my apartment and move so quietly that I didn't even notice him, I felt an incandescent joy at his presence and all it promised. Danger, excitement, uncertainty, hot sex... maybe even a little tenderness.

What kind of life did I lead that my angel of mercy was the angel of death in black leather, that my salvation was a gun at my back with the threat of death if I didn't allow myself to be kidnapped?

Sometimes, I couldn't help thinking that it wasn't such a bad life after all. I never said I wasn't seriously fucked-up.

* * *

"I'm already packed, Alex," Mulder said, with an almost sultry tone, and I wished I knew what the hell was going on. I should stop being surprised when things don't turn out the way I plan.

Sometimes the unexpected could be enjoyable. Like right now, as I watched Mulder arch his back against the gun as I rolled it down his spine. I slid it back up, just as slowly and thoroughly, and watched him shiver.... This was not the way most people reacted to having a gun shoved in their backs.

A whole new kink, and it's not even my birthday.

I never knew how he would react when he saw me. Sometimes we fought and hissed menacingly at one another; other times we fucked one another until we passed out. Then we went our separate ways until the next time. It gave our meetings the spice of the unexpected, but sometimes I wished I had my half of the script ready in advance.

Maybe this time I would find a way to distract him enough, make him _need_ me enough....

My plan had me chuckling evilly to myself for a week. Since America's Most Obsessed Federal Agent refused to take vacations, I would kidnap him. He works too hard; it's just not good for him. Since I also still kidnapped him for real once in a while....

I figured I would tailor my introductory speech to the Mulder who met me: FightMe!Mulder, FuckMe!Mulder, or the volatile combination of the two he sometimes showed me. Getting a reaction from any of the three never failed to be fun.

Even I sometimes felt surprised by how odd our relationship was, a three-year courtship followed by a fiery consummation. Mulder had tracked me down after he got back from the military base and half a day of interrogation and caught up with me in an alley. We got into the usual fight, him completely out of control from the blinding rage he indulged in sometimes, me holding back just enough not to kill him by accident.

He had me pinned against the wall, both of us breathing hard, our blood up.... We both moved in for the kiss at almost the same time, devouring one another. That first time we were like savages, biting and clawing, desperately trying to get inside one another. Not many people got to see him in this electrical storm state, fierce and overwhelming. When he sucked me in, ruthlessly milking my cock with those luxuriant lips, I still couldn't believe it was really happening. Lost in sensation, I almost pulled his hair out by the roots.

Later, when his mind came back, he stared at me with a shocked look in his eyes and asked what we were going to do now. Seeing as how our clothing had already been ripped away and the sex had been so good the first time.... The second time he responded with a slow-burning sweetness that stunned me. As I had him up against the wall, he had me... _forever_.

It figured that my missing half would be a crazed, self-destructive idealist.

At the very least, I was never bored.

I felt the uncontrollable urge to play with him a little. "Maybe I don't want to take you anywhere after all," I said as I slid the gun over a few vertebrae.

Mulder shuddered. "No?" He sounded so disappointed.

I gave up trying to figure out what thoughts ran in that beautiful, fucked-up head long ago. "What do you want to do?"

"I want you to take me somewhere, Alex. Anywhere, as long as it isn't here." His voice tried for nonchalance but failed, shaking just a little.

As pretty a picture as a simultaneously disturbed and horny Mulder made, I wanted to make him feel better. A few possibilities came to me, but they needed to be developed more....

"I can take you away from this, Mulder, but you have to trust me."

He laughed. "Sure, Alex. Why wouldn't I?" He shivered and whimpered as I brought the gun up under his sweater and ran it along his skin.

"Is there anything you need to do before we go?" I asked as I tongued his ear.

He nodded, his silky hair whispering against my face, and unzipped his faded jeans. His cock, already painfully hard, nudged its way free, with a little help from his hand, of his underwear. I slid the gun across his back, over his ribs, and down, down, until I stroked his shaft with the barrel, warmed from contact with his own skin. More responsive and sensitive than usual, he shuddered and moaned with each caress. In a short while he came with a shout, bucking hard and helplessly against me.

The feel of his ass moving against me, even through layers of clothing, didn't do me any favors, but I could wait a little. As much fun as I had teasing him, I knew he got understandably cranky if I made him wait for it. This put him in a good mood and took the edge off, making it possible for him to last longer next time.

After the last shuddering thrust, his head lolled back against mine. Six feet of satiated federal agent leaned on me, making me smile.

"Better?" I asked as I kissed him.

"Mmm-hmm," he mumbled, eyes closed. I loved the way sex made him almost glow.

"No time for that now; we have places to go." I woke him up when I slipped out from behind him and came around to lick him clean. His cock stirred a little against my tongue, but I pulled away. "Zip up and get your shoes on."

He quirked an eyebrow at me, but followed orders. That alone made me want to jump him. As he tied his lumberjack boots, I looked around the room for something I could use for the next step. I grinned as I saw it in one of his open drawers.

"Blindfold yourself. With that." I nodded at one of his black dress socks.

Mulder looked a little hurt, as if he thought I intended to play a bad joke on him. "Alex--"

"I think you'll like my plans. Let me try to cheer you up."

Mulder stood up with the sock in his hand, gave me a look of misgiving I wanted to kiss away, then tied it around his head over his eyes. I checked to make sure it was too thick for him to see through, then took his arm. He had his head cocked to the side like a bird, listening, and I could almost feel him trying to expand his other senses to make up for the lost sight.

This surrender suggested either a new level of trust or a Mulder who just felt too numb or self-destructive to be afraid. I knew which one I preferred, but I could work with either.

"Pick up your suitcase. It's near your right foot. We're leaving now."

* * *

Terror and anticipation made me almost dizzy. Alex could do anything to me now....

With my world shrouded in darkness, my other senses slowly became amplified to take up the slack. As we walked I listened to the soft huff of his breathing, felt him moving next to me and his hand on my arm like static electricity across my skin. His good arm had become more muscular over time as he did the work of two with it. He propelled me along, and I let him. Despite his strength, he held me gently. I enjoyed Alex's solicitous side whenever he presented it, so I enjoyed the trip even more as he told me about every obstacle in my path, saying when I should stop or step down, his voice warm and slightly rough in my ear. Slightly wet....

I hoped none of my neighbors would see this. Not just for the embarrassment--I could feel how tight my jeans had become, so my arousal had to be obvious to the world--but also because I was afraid Alex would hurt anyone who tried to interfere.

His violence worried and appalled me, but occasionally I couldn't help feeling thrilled by his possessiveness.

I sometimes wondered why my missing half had to be a sociopathic killer who usually worked for my worst enemies. Other times I could only be thankful that the sociopath in question was gorgeous and fiercely intelligent and had a taste for leather.

Consistency is the hobgoblin of small minds.

As we walked outside I felt the morning sunlight like a warm blanket across my face. The air carried the scent of grass and flowers, not yet obliterated by the heat and car exhaust that would come later as the day wore on. The high-pitched chirps of birdsong floated over the steady bass thrum of air conditioners. I breathed crisp air that still retained the refined, cleaner taste of night and tried to let my senses wash my thoughts away. For a while I succeeded.

As I came back to myself, I realized that we'd been standing still for a long time. Alex's voice had the warm, raw glow of whisky as he said, "I wish you could see how beautiful you are with the light slanting golden off your cheekbones and that look of rapture on your face...."

Soon Alex helped me into a car seat and belted me in a bit awkwardly. I let my head drift back against the headrest after I heard the door slam shut. The intense chemical, plastic, and leather smell of a new car enclosed me, and I wondered if Alex had stolen it.

He didn't speak as he drove, needing his concentration for driving one-handed. With the darkness of the blindfold, the quiet, and the steady vibration of the car to lull me, I soon drifted into a light sleep. I awoke to a slow, sensuous caress that started at my left cheekbone and ended at my lips.

"We're here, Mulder."

Wherever "here" was. I wanted to find out.

Suitcase in hand, I let him lead me forward. After he stopped me, I heard a commotion that sounded like he was wrestling something aside. After some more banging and creaking, he propelled me into an enclosed space and, from the sudden loss of fresh air, closed the door.

I smelled dust, must, and something sweet and dark that was vaguely redolent of rot. Before I could panic, Alex slipped the blindfold from my eyes.

At first, I saw a darkness so complete I might as well have been still blindfolded. Then Alex started to light candles, and the space gained form and color around me. As we walked, each of us bearing a candle, I understood where we were.

Once upon a time, a long time before bare, strip mall multiplexes, going to the movies had been an event. People had dressed in their best clothing for it and watched films in ostentatious palaces of gleaming crystal, red velvet, and gold. Alex had taken me to the abandoned ruin of such a palace.

Scarred marble lined the walls, and the skeletal remnants of battered chandeliers still hung from the ceiling. The carpet still showed lush red in places. Tarnished gilt and yellowed broken glass occasionally glimmered. Some of the wall carvings had lost their heads or had their eyes gouged out. When we walked into the theater proper, I saw giant circular scars on the walls where balconies had been torn down. Some of the seats were gone, giving the area the look of a mouth missing some of its teeth. The curtain that obscured the stage had been worn nearly to transparency in places.

The sight of such showy grandeur torn apart and pissed on brought my heart to my throat. Some of the ruin could be attributed to an unwillingness to keep things up, but so much of it was obviously the work of vandals, destroying only for the love of destruction.

Why had he brought me here? To show me how much worse things could be?

Alex pulled the curtain open, and my whole mindset changed. Sets, hanging backdrops, and prop furniture crowded the stage, making a crazy patchwork world of interiors and exteriors. Someone had tried to give the theater a second life as a playhouse. As Alex lit the candles that lined the edge of the stage, locations became clearer. I saw a Greek temple, a Victorian drawing room, a garden, distant modern cities, a Parisian cafe....

"If there's anywhere you don't like," Alex rolled a Greek temple piece away to reveal to reveal a '50's soda shoppe, "we can always go somewhere else. I couldn't decide where to take you... so I decided to take you everywhere."

I felt myself grinning like a lunatic, fiercely pleased before I even realized it. A bright, insane oasis of make-believe amidst the rotting wreckage.... The valiance and decadence almost killed me with their beauty.

He knew me, my bright side and my dark. He knew me....

"It's perfect, Alex," I said softly.

* * *

It didn't take me long to think of the theater I sometimes used as a hiding place. After a little cleaning and my extermination of the rats and vagrants who'd crowded the place, it had become a perfect sanctuary, a place no one would think to look. Seeing the blinding look of almost unholy joy on Mulder's face made the effort worth it all over again.

While vandals and vagrants had gotten to most of the theater by the time I arrived, the sets and props had been kept in a locked and hard-to-reach basement room. Thus, they remained mostly intact. It was a good thing I moved all the stuff up here before Tunguska's peasants "saved" me. I only needed a few strategically placed corpses to stop people from breaking in to fuck up all the work and cleaning I'd done.

Mulder climbed onto the stage, then stood facing--eyes closed, head back, arms outstretched--where the audience would have been. As he stood there, I could feel him imagining the theater in its heyday. I could almost see the antique audience applaud amid lit chandeliers, vibrant red, and ostentatious gilding. I could almost hear them.

Mulder tinged reality for the people around him; he just couldn't help it. He was a nexus for insanity and the unnatural. I couldn't entirely blame Dana Scully for clinging so tightly to the mainstream view of the world despite all the evidence, not when she probably saw her denial as her only way of fighting against it. Before I rode shotgun with him, I dealt with mundane opponents and problems. After, I got possessed by an alien oil slick, involved in a search for the cure for it, and entangled in a war between two alien races. I've seen and done things no one else would believe.

It isolated you, forced you to deal with other people marked like you just to maintain a sense of your own sanity, to reassure yourself. I resented him for it sometimes, even if it hadn't been his choice to entwine my life with his, to force me out of the safe cocoon of what I'd thought had been reality. I couldn't do it for very long though, not when he so obviously suffered as much as or more than the people who got dragged into his world.

When he turned to me, he looked like a down-on-his-luck angel in his faded denim and worn-out sweater, but the look on his face almost illuminated the stage. "Thank you," he said, his voice low and rough with feeling.

We met in a tangle of limbs and kissed madly, almost knocking down a set behind us before we hit the floor. "What was that?" Mulder asked breathlessly.

"We almost destroyed Paris."

He grinned, his face open and sunny in a way he rarely showed. "You don't happen to have Tokyo back there, do you?"

"We can reenact monster movies later, Mulder."

"Promise?"

"Promise." I stroked one of his cheekbones and smiled at the way he closed his eyes and abandoned himself to my touch. "I have a surprise for you."

I picked up a candle and led him through the temple and a Midwestern farm before I stopped. Mulder gaped at the large four-poster bed and smirked when he saw the set it stood in, with the backdrop painted with representations of shelves full of toys and model airplanes. A young boy's room.

"You like?" I asked as I set the candle down on a night table near the bed.

"You _are_ kinky."

"This from a guy who sees a gun as a sextoy. Not that I'm complaining."

His look of ostentatious offense made me crack up. Mulder laughed when I flung him onto the bed but soon gained a more appreciative look as he relaxed into the soft sheets and mattress. I took luxury wherever I could.

As soon as I settled in beside him, he started to take off my clothes, unwrapping me slowly, fingers trailed sometimes lightly and sometimes with more pressure across my skin. He unbuckled and removed the prosthetic with great care and gently set it down beside the bed. As he unzipped my jeans he also tortured my nipples with his tongue and teeth, sucking and nipping. Once he had me completely nude, he sat back and admired his handiwork.

With how hard I was, I wanted him to do more than stare at me, especially since the way he stared at me, like I was a feast and he couldn't decide what to start eating first, did nothing for my self-control. "Mulder...."

"Have I told you how much I love this theater, Alex?"

"Mulder...."

"It was very thoughtful of you to bring--"

"Mulder!"

He smiled, then dove in for the attack. I whimpered as he licked the weeping head of my cock clean, then paid attention to my balls, taking and then the other into his mouth and rolling them on his tongue. His hand held my cock firmly at the base to control me, making me wonder what he had planned. Finally, he abandoned them too and licked his way down. I sobbed as he then proceeded to give me an incredible rim job, his talented tongue swirling around the opening awhile before thrusting in rhythmically.

If I didn't come now, I would die. Apparently Mulder could read my body well enough to sense that, because he left off what he was doing, took his hand away, and enveloped my cock with his mouth. First he nibbled and hummed, driving me crazy, before he took me in deep and really started to suck. He held my hips down to stop me from bucking into his mouth too hard as I came with a shout. Finally, spent and trying to catch my breath, I collapsed back against the pillows and stroked his hair.

Mulder finished me off with one last, long lick, then climbed up beside me. "Thank you for bringing me here," he said with a smile.

"If that's the kind of thanks I can get--"

"--maybe you'll try to do things to please me more often? That's kind of what I'm trying for here, Alex. Not that I don't enjoy driving you crazy on its own merits...."

"Driving me crazy. Better this way than your usual way," I said. He stuck his tongue out at me. "Don't do that unless you intend to use it."

He just smiled and looked coy. I swatted him. "Strip for me, Mulder."

His eyes clouded for a moment, making me worry, then he got off the bed and stood up. Usually he made a little show of stripping, but this time he did it slowly but efficiently, with not a single extra or lingering gesture. I wanted to see his ass, but he never once turned around, facing me the whole time with a gaze that seemed to hold some misgiving. Now he was scaring the hell out of me.

Once he taken everything off, he got back on the bed carefully, but I grabbed him and flipped him onto his stomach so I could see what he was hiding. "What the hell happened to you?"

Fading bruises in yellow/green/purple marbled the fine skin of his ass and back. The colors outlined and radiated out from his spine. I could imagine how much they must have hurt when he'd first gotten them.

Mulder had an almost sheepish expression, trying to be brave and hide the apprehension, as he looked at me over his shoulder. "I slid down at least a mile of bumpy ice tunnel. You should have seen them four days ago. I could barely move." The anxiety surfaced a little more. "Not exactly pretty, is it?"

I kissed the center of a yellow-purple rosette on one cheek and grinned. "If I didn't like bruises, I would never have taken up with you." To prove myself further, I blanketed his ass in nibbling kisses while using my hand to toy with his cock. He writhed and whimpered so beautifully that I was soon hard again.

Maybe the bruises made him more sensitive, but it didn't take long before he moaned, "Alex, please fuck me now."

I pulled his cock a little as I said, "I do like that 'please.' So polite."

"Bastard."

"There's the Mulder I'm used to."

"Alex...." While I had been busy talking, he'd been rummaging through the night table's drawer and found the condoms and lubricant. He slapped them down on the table. Very impressive from a man who I had so thoroughly pinned. He looked at me over his shoulder, burning with want.

It made me smile, and I backed away. "Put it on me."

He got up and turned around. He kissed me demandingly as he put the condom on me and slicked me up. Then he lay back down and slicked himself up, moaning and writhing as he thrust his own fingers in and out, slowly and thoroughly finger-fucking himself.

The sight made me lose all sense, as he knew it would. I pulled his hand away and stroked in myself, sheathing myself in him to the balls before pulling almost all the way out. He groaned and shivered as I set a hard, ruthless rhythm, exactly as I knew he wanted it right now.

I should have known from the wanton way he reacted to the gun earlier that the idiot had almost gotten himself killed again. It's human nature and especially his nature to want to fuck after barely surviving death. Nature's way of propagating the species.

I had been incommunicado on assignment recently, only to return to find out that my British sponsor was dead and get hints that something horrible had happened to the Consortium's plan, not that they told me anything. They thought I should be grateful that they weren't ditching me after the death of my patron. It didn't take too much effort to find out about the car bomb and Mulder's presence just before it went off. My sponsor had broken ranks and helped Mulder for some reason. The rest of the events would take more effort to dig out, much more.

Almost got himself killed again. Over and over Mulder danced with death, always just barely escaping. I knew it made me a hypocrite to complain when I lived an even more hazardous, uncertain life, but I wanted to keep him safe somehow, somewhere. I wanted him to be mine and mine alone, there whenever I needed him.... I had to save the damned idiot from himself....

My thoughts made me be a little rougher than usual, but my partner certainly didn't complain. Instead, Mulder urged me on, inviting me to lose myself in pleasure and the fevered embrace of his straining flesh. I did, gladly. When I bit his shoulder, I felt his whole body spasm, and his muscles clench so tight they almost broke me. With a harsh scream, I erupted inside him.

Suddenly remembering Mulder's multitude of bruises, I rolled us over to our sides before I pulled out and disposed of the condom. When I turned over, he snuggled in and kept kissing me.

"I needed that," he sighed.

As we kissed and petted one another, every thought left my head.

* * *

I awoke in total darkness, unsure of where I was. The feeling used to unsettle me more before I got used to all the motel rooms I slept in while on assignment, but it never went away. This didn't smell like one of my motel rooms, not with the must and dust and certainly not with the heavy smell of sex. The lingering feeling of great contentment and the warm weight of someone holding me weren't familiar either.

I felt that someone move against my bare skin and murmur my name against my neck. Alex. I remembered the past few hours and smiled.

I held him tighter and relaxed, just letting him sleep against me as I watched him breathe for hours. I didn't know how long this would last--nothing ever lasts--and I intended to enjoy every minute I had. I felt something deep and warm inside me that I curled up around like a cat. Eventually I felt a sure hand stroking my cock and Alex's lips against my skin. I moaned.

"Good morning, Mulder," he said, his voice rough and low, as his hand started to pull a little harder.

And it was.

* * *

After a morning spent in bed testing Mulder's endurance, I finally went out for food. Once I came back with the Chinese take-out, we ate it at the Parisian cafe. I knew Mulder lived on coffee, sunflower seeds, and donuts usually, so I intended to make sure he ate right while he was with me and I had the cash to take care of him. The thought of Mulder as my kept boy made me smirk.

He looked thoroughly debauched with his disheveled hair and afterglow, wearing a velvet robe he'd liberated from the costume room. No longer crackling with restless energy, he moved more languidly; sex always seemed to take the edge off of his manic phases. He'd ordered sweet and sour chicken, and the sauce had stained his lush lips a candy red. I settled on his lap and kissed him, enjoying the complex, contradictory tones of the flavor of his mouth and the feel of his immediate arousal under me.

"Still hungry, Alex?" he asked with a smile when I pulled away a little.

I wanted this, wanted him with me forever. I just had to find a way....

"Always. Stick with me, Mulder, and I'll show you the world."

### End


End file.
